


On That Porch

by wickedrum



Category: Halt and Catch Fire
Genre: Emetophilia, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Utopia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:12:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3958870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedrum/pseuds/wickedrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cameron holds her own. She is self-reliant, ingenious, independent, a single woman. But does that equal shunning Joe forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Low

**Author's Note:**

> I’m trying to throw this one out quick before the new season starts cause obviously it could never happen. Not much of a plot, I just wanted them to reunite and for Cameron to act in a way I would want her to just for once. So this is a sort of utopia version.

Disclaimers: Unfortunately I don't own a Lee Pace. Not the original, and not any of his characters. Written for enjoyment only.  
Genre: Gen/snippet. Hurt/comfort.  
Set: After the end of season 1.  
Warning: a little bit of sickness fetish. Emetophilia.

Donna didn’t make much of an effort to make it over to Mutiny, or more like Cameron’s house early. She never did. Everything was pretty much freeform over there and the others were decidedly night owls, which meant that most of their marketable concepts came to fruition late at night. She wouldn’t expect many of the guys to be around before 11am, but she preferred an earlier start as it allowed her time with her kids in the evening. Not as if anyone was counting working hours of course, pay was sporadic to the extent some of the original mutineers couldn’t afford to stay any longer. All they have sold were a few compilers, plugins and patented gaming accessories, but nothing that was based on something entirely new like Cameron had been aiming for. There were ideas knocking about of course, but who would fund any venture in the atmosphere of the recent video game industry crash? The younger woman needed to refocus her head into the computing world and forget about gaming for the time being, but of course it was hard to speak sense with the blonde. 

Today, Donna was intending to work on their own version of a mouse, planned to be designed for computer based gaming. Contemplating what kind of material would be most beneficial for the mousepad for the ideal amount of friction of their steel roller ball, she entered the living/work room to find only Yo-yo around. “Cameron up yet?” She enquired. The young woman usually took the mail into her bedroom to read and Donna didn’t want it forgotten again. 

“Yeah,” the coder offered, not looking up from his screen, “she just came back from the store.”

Donna raised her eyebrows. It was rather early for the leader of the mutineers to be up, never mind going out for groceries, but if it was so, the engineer would take advantage of it. She steered towards the bedroom door, noting the discarded Walgreens bag on the stack of boxes beside it. It didn’t take long till she could find an explanation for it-there were retching sounds coming through the thin wood. “Cameron are you alright?” She called.

“Yes!” It came the coder’s immediate and somewhat panicked answer, “I’ll be there in a minute!” 

“Ookay?” Donna questioned the truthfulness of the assertion. “Can I come in?” She added as the distressed noises didn’t get better.

“No! You can’t.” Cameron suddenly appeared, sneaking through the door she only opened as much as it just made it possible to fit through and keeping hold of the handle so it was in her firm grip behind her, “everything’s under control.” She claimed. 

“I somehow doubt that?” The older woman frowned, looking the blonde up and down. Cameron was wearing a heavy metal top and joggers, probably her sleep wear and her hair stood up at all angles, but neither was unusual. Appearances never bothered the prodigy much. Her eyes were shining, her skin had its usual glow, the inkling of a smile on her lips, a thrilled expression she had trouble hiding. In itself, not so unusual either, she could be quite maniacal when she was on a roll, but it didn’t add up with the current situation. “Are you shooting up drugs again?” Donna reproached.

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m not thick,” Cameron defended herself, “but if wouldn’t be your business if I did.”

“Is there someone in there?” Was Donna’s second guess.

Muffled retching sounds answered her and Cameron rolled her eyes, realising there was not much point to trying to pretend there wasn’t. “Don’t tell Gordon and whatever you do, please don’t call the police,” she entreated as she let the other woman through. Her own steps took her to Joe, “did you really have to use that blanket to puke into?” She complained. All the same, she climbed onto the bed and held his shaky form as he unsteadily aimed towards the side of the bed now that there was no need for him to attempt to keep quiet. “He’s very sick,” she explained to the newcomer, as if it would’ve not been self-evident. 

“And that is why I shouldn’t tell the police or Gordon he’s here?” Donna challenged.

“Look, I found him on my porch last night in a similar state he’s in now,” Cameron tried, “what was I supposed to do!”

Donna regarded them with a pout. Joe taking deep breaths, trying to control the heaves, Cameron fingering his hair, stroking the back of his neck. He was a mess, off-colour, shivering, disoriented. One of the rare times when Cameron looked her young age, openly concerned, apologetic, eyes suppliant and insistent. 

“I’ll give him till tomorrow,” Donna decided at the sight of the sorry picture. She was about to leave when Joe raised his head. “You won’t regret it. There’s a reason I’m here,” he promised. 

The redhead gave an amused snort, “I’m not a sales call and I know you better than that. You try your damnest, that’s true, but occasionally it just all evaporates, how is that Joe?”

“I’m not perfect, I never said I was,” he held, propping his forehead up in his palm, head rather heavy.

Donna stepped forward again, intrigued by the possibility that she can have this conversation after all, “why did you do it? Burn the truck. And flood that data center at IBM if we’re at the topic.”

“Different reasons,” Joe curled up on the bed now that he had finished puking. Cameron stayed close, rubbing his shoulder and back. 

“Well?” Donna stood with a hand on a hip.

“Gordon’s best work he’s so proud of-a pile of garbage. Within a year, it will be outdated, won’t be able to sell.” The sick man said quietly, distantly, as if not talking about something that deeply affected him. “It was not worth all that energy and distress.”

“It was other people’s labour too, including mine. You have no right to judge that or discard it without a care. Not when you don’t even understand the contributions that went in it, never mind designing something yourself,” she disputed. 

“Do you have to do this right now?” Cameron frowned, putting a hand on his forehead, “he’s really sick and I need to clean up.”

Donna sighed, shaking her head a little, then restarted towards the door, where she stopped, deliberating. “Do you need any help with him?” She finally bade.

Cameron looked back at her, trying to judge her sincerity and deciding Donna wasn’t the kind of person to offer if she didn’t mean it. “I honestly don’t know. I got the oral rehydration salts and ibuprofen to get his temperature down. Is there anything else I should give him?”

The older woman nodded, and approached again, carefully avoiding the puddle and soiled cotton on the floor, “Joe.” She stooped to his level. “How long have you been sick?”

“A few days.” He supplied reluctantly, distrustful.

“Stomach flu or something else?” Donna quizzed.

“I don’t know.” Joe replied guardedly. 

“Well, how did it start?” The redhead continued patiently.

“A bad stomachache.”

“And then?”

“I don’t puke that often,” he held defensively, “but my stomach hurts,” his hands tightened a little round his midsection indicatively where he had been loosely gripping himself previously. 

“Don’t sound like stomach flu,” Donna sighed. “That’s a little worrying. It could be his appendix,” she looked at Cameron.

“I don’t have one.” Joe supplied uneasily. The way those two were currently treating him was a little unnerving.

“Okay, that’s good I guess,” the married woman approved, “so you would know what a condition as serious as that would feel like and you would be able to tell if it’s something grave, right?”

“Uhm…” Was as far Joe got. Losing several inches of his intestines as a result of falling accidents didn’t exactly qualify.

“He’s okay, it’s not very serious,” Cameron came to his rescue, sneaking a hand under his to rub down his stomach. “He will tell us if it is.”

“Well, then,” Donna stood, “cold compresses on his belly,” she advised, “soothes the cramps and should bring his temperature down. I don’t recommend too many pain killers as it might mask a condition. But I could step out for some antiemetics if you’d like.” The redhead offered. 

“That won’t be necessary,” Joe asserted. All this fuss over his wellbeing was rather odd as it was.

Donna nodded. “Let me know, Cameron. I’ll be around for a while. And I’m checking back in tomorrow Joe, I mean it, we’ll judge then how you are and you’d better have some good reasons for what you have done,” she warned, not even half as feisty as she initially started. 

“Thanks, Donna,” Cameron pursed her lips appreciatively towards her friend.

“I’m just glad it’s not me who has to clean that mess up,” she grinned before finally stepping out.

Tbc


	2. Public

Chapter 2: Publication

Donna was rather puzzled when she found Lev parking in front of her house the next day with Mutiny’s sole pick-up they normally used if some equipment needed picked up. And they were in truth both mystified at having to follow Cameron’s instructions of getting to a mysterious address in the affluent inner suburb of Richardson, what turned out to be a red brick, curved one storey building behind a doctor’s office that had recently been an art gallery by the looks of it. They were correctly at the right destination, proof being Cameron standing outside it dangling some keys elatedly, with the rest of the code monkeys already gathered around her, just as jovial. “Welcome to Mutiny’s new headquarters,” the blond greeted the arrivals.

“What’s going on?” Donna stepped out of the vehicle.

“I was kind of fed up with troops in my house at all times, no offense,” Cameron gestured around her, “I’ve been looking to rent this one for a while.” 

“Did we sell something?” Donna enquired as they were all let in to explore the large workspace. 

“Not as such,” the younger woman spoke in an intentionally abstruse manner. 

“Can you tell me already how we can afford this!” The redhead enquired suspiciously. Cameron had amazing ideas sometimes, but they were best kept in check. 

“Well, we didn’t sell it yet, but we’ve got an assignment,” the blond allowed, “with an advance payment based on the offline reader mode email client for MS-DOS I was trying to make a portable application for. Which is why I need everything brought over as quickly as possible and then we’ll get cracking.”

Donna furrowed her brows. Not because she didn’t like the idea-she had been wanting to convince Cameron to take direction into the world of computers as opposed to gaming all along, but “this doesn’t sound like you.” Suspicious, she put a hand on Cameron’s arm to stop her from wandering off. 

“Tell me about it.” The younger woman agreed. “The guys will hate it too, but I need everybody working on it for just a bit. All these extra features we’re meant to set up: like we’re supposed to customise stationary, enable downloading email copies while leaving it on the server at the same time and have built in automatic responses for standard questions. Like who am I, a secretary?”

“Okay, well that’s great you’ve got the good notion to see sense,” Donna allowed, “we should do this so that we can have a bit of leave way to delve into what we really want after.”

“Or during.” Cameron announced dismissively and that was more like the young rebel the engineer knew. 

Donna smiled at her approach, but stalled, the next nagging question ardent, “but seriously, how did you get someone to buy an idea, an unfinished product?”

“I didn’t. Joe did,” the blond admitted uncharacteristically awkwardly. “That he’s good at,” she acknowledged.

“We’re working with Joe now again?” The married woman sighed disapprovingly. “How is that a good idea? I thought you two were over.”

“How is that a good idea.” Cameron grumbled. “How is it a good idea to be able to pay the overdue bills, not having to tell everyone working here we’re finished and having cash for the rent. Really Donna. You were supposed to be the mature one here. What was I to do! It’s just temporary.” She looked unhappy all of a sudden. 

“Temporary. Does he know that?” 

“We’re not together.” Cameron defended herself.

“Does he know that?” Donna repeated, “do you know how much in love he is with you still? The way he looks at you as if you’d be some personal saviour? This can’t end well.”

“You want me to drop the deal? Throw him out?” The shorthaired woman challenged. 

“I didn’t say that. But there’s also the issue of Cardiff and criminal charges. You don’t expect me to keep my mouth shut forever do you?” 

Cameron gave a noncommittal gesture. “Whatever. He can handle himself. Just give him a couple of days till he gets better okay?”

“How is he?” Donna turned sympathetic once more at hearing about his afflictions.

“Well, he was able to secure this deal yesterday. Up and about. But he didn’t have a good night,” Cameron flinched apologetically. “He really needs a break.”

Donna shook her head minutely, “so you still have feelings for him too, right? Despite the whole I-don’t-need-you-cause-you’re-a-fake thing you told me about.” She established more than asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You can’t trust him, remember? Joe is unstable and contrary, you know that, better than me. So where is this heading?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t plan this out alright? If he leeches on too much, I’ll get rid of him, it’s not hard.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about. Joe in rejected, angry, self-destruct mode.”

“Make your mind up Donna. Ditch or not ditch, which is it you want?” Cameron spat, even though she would only ever do what her own mind told her to do. 

“Whichever keeps him sane and convenient for us if it’s possible?” The redhead suggested, sceptical. “Under the conditions that it is okay with you of course.” And she was only half quipping.

“That’s a keep then,” Cameron determined and went to check out the upstairs space for the possibility of setting up an office. It had sounded like a cold-hearted verdict, but she didn’t mind. It was a perfect, rational excuse to take him in and secretly give in to that inkling she had to comfort and cuddle him. 

The End


End file.
